Motherhood and Dishes
by bridget.thornton
Summary: The veteran and the novice bond over the simplest of things - dishes.


Molly Weasley stood at her sink, washing the dishes of the previous lunch. Even having just two extra boys home made it all the more difficult to cook enough food, and thus all the more difficult to clean up afterward. Still, she liked having all her boys home, even if it meant more work in the kitchen.

"Molly? Arthur?" A voice rang out in the hall, and the unmistakable pink hair and face of the very pregnant Nymphadora Tonks popped around the corner.

"Why, hello, dear! Come on in!" Molly said, turning around briefly and giving her a bright smile. "We've just eaten, but I can get you a sandwich and a spot of tea if you're hungry."

Nymphadora smiled weakly, and Molly noticed that her hair was slightly less bubblegum and more of a washed-out salmon. Her face was also paler. "Thank you, Molly, but I'm not hungry. Here, let me help." She picked up a dishtowel and began to dry the plate Molly had just set down. "How are all the children? Still eating, I see."

Molly chucked, beginning to scrub a particularly large pot. "Oh, they're doing well. I'm sure you saw them on your way in unless they went out to Diagon Alley. The twins wanted to show Charlie and Bill their shop, and Ron needed something or other, and it escalated from there." She smiled to herself. "I'm so glad they're all here. It's busy, but it's home." She turned to look at Nymphadora and was startled to see that the younger woman had tears in her eyes. "Dear, what's wrong? Have I upset you?" She dried her hands and gently took the plate Nymphadora was drying, placing it on the table. "Come now, Dora, you know you can tell me. I've seen quite a bit, and I won't be upset at whatever it is."

Dora shook her head through her tears. "It's nothing like that. It's just…" She tried to explain, but then her eyes fell on a painting done by one of the children as a young toddler, and she began to cry in earnest.

"Oh, love," Molly murmured, "come here. Sit down." She led Dora to a chair and helped her sit in it. Putting on the kettle, she opened the cupboards and pulled out two mugs – one with pictures of cats, one with a faded WWN logo. In no time at all, she had made tea for her and Dora and had pulled together a couple of tuna sandwiches. Handing Dora a mug and a sandwich, she looked into her eyes and said, "Eat." Her tone was commanding and yet kind. Dora ate.

After Dora had composed herself, Molly gently asked her what was wrong.

Dora hesitated, and then sighed. "I'm so nervous about becoming a mother," she whispered. "I'm afraid that I'll so something wrong, or hurt my baby before it's born… anything like that." She unconsciously curved a hand protectively over her sizeable belly. "And you've become a mother so many times, and you make it look so, so…" She struggled, looking for the word to voice her predicament.

"Easy?" Molly supplied with a soft smile. When Dora nodded sheepishly, she laughed. "It never gets easy, dear. It never was. Each mother has their own way to cope with the stress of having a child. I just found mine early on. I didn't keep on having babies just because it was _easy_." At Dora's pleading that she didn't mean anything of the sort, Molly held up a hand, wrinkled from dishwashing. "Dora, dear, I know it's hard. I know you feel lost, and overwhelmed, and afraid. But hear me on this – you are passionate, beautiful, strong, and able to have a child. Coming from a veteran, that's a very big compliment. Don't doubt it." She smiled then, and Dora's eyes sparkled faintly when she smiled softly back.

"Thank you, Molly," she said as she walked out of the kitchen and crossed the threshold. "You've made me feel so much more relaxed. I'm so glad I came to you."

Molly smiled, giving the younger woman a squeeze. "Anytime, dear. Now, go home and ask that brilliant husband of yours to read you and your baby a story. I think he'd like that."

Beaming, Dora waved, then walked past the wards of the Burrow.

Molly sighed and closed the door. Heading back over to the sink, she picked up the sponge and continued to scrub at the pot. Dora would be a wonderful mother, she was sure of it. Still, she knew that she'd be getting many more visits from her as her due date loomed closer. And yet, she thought as she glanced at the two mugs, she was definitely looking forward to them.


End file.
